


Beauty and The Beast

by TheChatotMaestro



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Beauty and the Beast, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Parody Taken Too Seriously, Sickfic, Talking Furniture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChatotMaestro/pseuds/TheChatotMaestro
Summary: In a quiet nook of a small town, a man named Viren has finished his greatest invention: a machine that can do magic. Leaving his two children behind to look after the house, he takes it on the road to show it off at a fair- however, when a sudden storm leaves him stranded in the cold, there's nowhere to turn to except a suspicious abandoned building in the middle of the woods.





	1. Small Provincial Life

It was the middle of the afternoon on a bright and sunny Thursday. The streets of the village were mostly deserted- the men were hard at work in the fields or the workshops, the women were working harder in their houses, and the children were locked up in the schoolhouse.

A young lady with dark hair and dark clothes wandered through town, humming a tune as if she didn’t have a care in the world, occasionally kicking at a pile of leaves and laughing as they flew up in the air and showered down around her. She had no one to keep her company- her older brother was off with some of his buddies, and her father had been locked in his workshop for days- and no particular obligations to tie her down, without need nor want of a job or a husband.

Abruptly, she stopped, her attention drawn by one of the flowerbeds outside a nearby house and the butterfly that was visiting. The contents of her bag clinked and rustled against each other as she bent down to observe it. It didn’t seem bothered at all by her presence, even as she moved closer.

“Hey, there, little guy… What’cha up to?” She asked, inspecting the patterns on its wings. They were colorful and intricate, and the golden swirls on the edges seemed to glow slightly. “C’mere… come to Claudia…” She slowly reached out one hand and bent the flower towards her, then reached into her bag…

…then she pulled a jar out lightning-fast and trapped the insect inside. “Gotcha!”

She held it up to her face, watching the panicked insect flutter around for a few moments before putting the jar back into her bag with the rest. There were five other jars with various odd insects inside in one pocket, and a handful of empty jars left in another, just in case she encountered any more. She mostly tried to catch butterflies, but today she had a beetle and a centipede as well. Most insects that she passed on her way got ignored, but the unlucky few that stood out to her would be swept up into jars and taken with her.

 

Claudia made her way through the town, waving at the few people she saw out and about (or, more frequently, through their windows). As she rounded a corner, the path led out of town, into the forest- or, if you turned right, to her house.

Was her house on fire?

She squinted a bit at the large plume of smoke coming from the roof of her house in the distance. Maaaybe that was worth investigating.

 

As she set off in the direction of home, it became readily apparent that while the smoke was abnormally dark and there was a lot more of it than normal, it was indeed coming out of the chimney. (The second chimney, mind you, the one her brother and her father had haphazardly knocked in the roof of the workshop room shortly after her father had started on his latest pet project.)

 

When she got there, instead of going in through the front, she unlatched the back gate and went through the back garden and into the greenhouse. There, she retrieved the bottles containing the insects, and released them one by one. The greenhouse was for plants, yes, but more importantly, it was where they kept the bugs. Claudia made sure to find a few new ones every day.

That done, she put the bottles back with the others and went into the house. It was unusually warm- was her father really still working? She could hear the faint sounds of his tools…

Frowning, she set her bag down on the kitchen table, crossing the room and lightly knocking on the workshop door.

“Dad? Eeeeverything okay in there?”

No response.

She knocked again, louder this time. “Dad! I’m home!”

The tinkering noises stopped, and there was a muffled sigh from inside. “Come in.”

 

She opened the door, making a face as heat rushed out towards her. “You’re still in here?”

Her dad looked over at her from his chair- he was paler than normal, his hair and goatee damp with sweat. “You’re home early.” He noted.

“Yeah, well, I thought there’d been a house fire.” She frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “I thought you said you were going to pack this thing up soon.”

“I know, I know, it just- I know I can make it better. It still doesn’t work every time.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and putting a hand to his head.

“It’s worked most of the times I’ve seen you try it.” She walked over to the contraption, poking it inquisitively. It was a furnace- one that burned without wood. Instead of using flammable fuel, it relied on one singular live insect… and magic.

Claudia had been learning magic from her father for years now. He’d been a mage her entire life, and used magic to keep her family afloat during hard times. His wife… didn’t exactly agree with his methods, although she never told her children why. Her son seemed disinterested, and would excuse himself from the conversation whenever the topic came up. But Claudia was intrigued. How could magic be bad, after all? Her father used it to do such wonderful things- make pictures dance in her books, make fresh vegetables grow out of the ground, keep their house safe during storms. It was inevitable that she’d ask him to teach her, and she turned out to be a very quick learner.

Her father was a mechanic by trade, taught by his father who was taught by his father’s father. The mage thing had always been more of a side hobby… until now.

Claudia ran her hand along the sleek wood frame of the furnace, wishing she could see inside. She’d seen it work so many times that the initial shock had worn off, but it was still amazing. To think: her father was the one who discovered that machines could draw runes and spells. Yes, it needed a human to operate it, but it was a huge leap for both magic and technology! This evening, he was leaving to take it to an invention fair two towns over, and once he returned, the possibilities for what they could do with this newfound knowledge were endless. (Claudia was planning to ask him if they could work together on a potion-making machine next.)

“The timing of the arm has to be exact.”

“I know, dad.”

“The gears on the inside just aren’t precise enough.”

“I know, dad.”

“If I could only fine-tune it just a bit more-”

“That’s what you said a week ago.” She turned to face him, hands on her hips.

“I-”

“And a week before that, too!”

Her father fell silent, not meeting her gaze.

“The neighbors are worried about you. I can’t walk down the street without someone asking me ‘where’s ol’ Viren, then?’. Old Man Leroy thought you died. And I’m worried about you too!” She continued when he didn’t respond, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The doctor said not to strain yourself for a week after you caught that cold, and you were back after three days.”

Viren sighed. “Yes. I remember that.”

“I should hope so. It was last week.”

 

Claudia stared him down for a moment.

She hated having to do this, but every so often, it became necessary. Neither her nor Soren liked confronting their father, but someone had to do it, and with her brother out of the house so often, Claudia always took the burden upon herself. Her father was so devoted to his work that he would lose himself in it if he wasn’t careful, but no project had absorbed his attention as thoroughly as this. She wished she had drawn the line when he started sacrificing his health. It wasn’t all that surprising that he’d be working up until the last minute, but still.

“…Dad.” Her tone softened, and she smiled encouragingly. “There’s only a few hours until you have to leave. How about we pack this up together? I can help you get it into the cart.”

“…yes, I suppose we might as well. I doubt I’ll be able to make any more progress.” He admitted with a shake of his head, standing up from his chair. It wasn’t worth it to argue anymore. “Where’s that blasted box…”

 

He didn’t put up a fight after that, and they managed to get the furnace carefully packed up in its box and loaded into the cart- albeit with Claudia helping a little less than she’d like to, as her father was a little overprotective of his creation. (Could you blame him? It had taken years to get right.) Afterwards, Viren went straight back into the house, while Claudia stayed behind a few minutes to give some attention to the family horse before following him in.

 

Viren glanced over at the clock on the wall. “It’s already that late?” Three hours left until his departure already? He really had spent too long in the workshop… maybe he would take some time to rest. After all, he’d be traveling for almost twenty-four hours.

 

He did just that, sitting in the front room with Claudia and listening to her talk about her day. Soren came home just as they were starting to cook dinner, and after they ate, it was time for him to get going.

 

Horseback wasn’t his favorite mode of transport, but since walking wasn’t an option- both thanks to his heavy cargo and his bad knee- it was the only way to get to the fair in time.

 

“Uh… Dad?” Soren got his attention as Claudia was helping him up on the horse, pointing at the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”

Claudia looked off to the horizon as well, eyes fixating on a certain swell of dark clouds in the direction Viren was about to ride off in. “Ooh, no, those don’t look good.”

Viren, who was hoping they’d go away if he ignored them, sighed. “It’ll be fine. The box is waterproof.”

“Yeah, but, uh… you’re not waterproof.” His son pointed out.

“Yes. I know.” He replied, through gritted teeth. “It will be fine. If anything happens, it’ll just be a little rain. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“If you say so…”

 

Claudia got up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around her father. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll only be gone a week. We’ve been over this.” He hugged her with one arm in return. True, it was only a week, but it was the longest he’d ever been away from them. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t miss them too. But it’d be over before he knew it, and he’d be back at home with a new project or four to keep him occupied.

He pulled Soren into the hug with his other arm, and smiled at them when he let go. “You two will do fine without me.”

 

“Bye, Dad!” They waved at him as he rode off, and he waved back one last time before focusing his eyes on the road.

The road, definitely, and not the increasingly worrying clouds on the horizon.


	2. Lost In The Woods

The first raindrop came about an hour after sunset. Followed by several of its brothers.

Viren scowled, pulling the hood of his cloak up. He knew it was going to happen eventually, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. A storm now, in the middle of the woods, would make his journey much longer and more difficult, if it didn’t make him stop entirely- oh, perish the thought! He would stop for nothing, even if the heavens themselves opened up to intervene.

 

Half an hour later, and it felt like they had.

He was drenched from head to toe, and utterly freezing. It was getting hard to see the path, and he was getting less sure of where he was going, even though there had been no forks in the road so far.

On top of that… he wasn’t entirely sure that all of the rustling noises that he was hearing were coming from the horse or the rain.

 

A sudden but familiar tickle arose in his throat, and he muffled a fit of coughs into his cloak. Fantastic. Just what he needed. A relapse. If this kept up, he’d be an absolute mess at the fair, and the rain wasn’t showing signs of slowing any time soon. His horse was, though. Irritated, he flicked the reins to try and make it pick up the pace. Startled, the horse neighed loudly. The sound made Viren flinch- and upset something else, as well.

From behind them, the suspicious rustling suddenly grew louder, accompanied by… growling sounds.

Viren looked back, and behind him, he could just barely make out a huddle of dark shapes with sinister, glowing eyes. Lurking among the trees and on the path behind the cart. The growling grew louder as his gaze met theirs.

A pack of wolves.

 

In a frenzy, he turned back around and practically whipped the horse with the reins. With another panicked neigh, they were off, and with a chorus of devilish barking, the wolves were hot on their tail.

The path twisted and turned, a lot more than he’d noticed when they were going slowly, and they had a few near misses with trees, but somehow, they managed to stay on the path.

It went uphill, downhill, left, right. A bridge over a river provided some hope- only the hounds directly behind them stayed on their tail, while the others had to come screeching to a halt or risk running directly into the rushing waters.

Viren watched as half the pack was left behind on the other side of the bridge, but turned around a second too late, as the cart charged down the wrong side of a fork in the road. He knew the path to the other town well- he’d often traveled this road before he laid down his roots. But not once had he taken this route. It was uncharted territory- and he’d practically lost all control of the horse.

As they careened around twists and turns, the rain seemed to grow even harder, and thunder crashed above their heads. The cargo in the cart rattled, catching Viren’s attention- he’d tied it down quite securely, but he hadn’t planned for anything like this. Was it okay?-

 

As he turned to check on the cart, the horse slipped in the mud.

Viren went flying off, narrowly missing some trees and landing on the ground with a splash. The horse and its cart span, spilling some of the smaller cargo, and the cart hit one of the biggest wolves as it swung wildly. It too went flying, and the rest of the pack scattered.

As Viren struggled to pick himself up off the ground, he saw the horse, now all turned around, regain its footing and start to run off back the way it had came.

“Wait!-” He tried to call out, but another bout of coughing stopped him.

Another moment, and he was alone.

 

He finally managed to stand, leaning against a tree to keep himself upright.

Just earlier today, he’d been putting the finishing touches on his greatest creation. Now, he was stranded in the woods, with nothing but a soaked cloak and a small and equally drenched satchel containing only a handful of probably-unusable magic ingredients and a bottle of water.

He wouldn’t be able to cast any spells in this condition. Any fire he could make would be put out, and his hands were shaking too badly to even try. Heck, he couldn’t stand without leaning on a tree. Still, staying here wasn’t an option- he’d freeze to death, or the blasted mongrels that caused this mess would return and he’d be eaten.

After another moment to try and compose himself, he picked up a branch that had fallen from the tree while he was struggling to stand. It was roughly two-thirds his height, and seemed strong enough to use as a walking stick.

His life’s work was gone into the night, but not forever. He knew he’d be able to find it using a tracking spell. So the only thing left was to trudge back home- defeated, yes, but only temporarily.

Easier said than done.

 

* * *

 

It felt like he’d been walking for hours and made no progress. How fast had that horse been going? Surely he’d be back at the bridge by now. Why did all the trees have to look the same? Why did it have to be so dark out? And why wouldn’t the rain just give him a break already?

His cold had well and truly relapsed now. He couldn’t go five minutes without another fit of coughing, it was getting harder to breathe through his nose, his head was aching, and he was quite sure that not all the chills wracking his body were from his wet clothing. It was also getting harder to keep his thoughts straight, which was the part he cursed the most when he suddenly came upon a fork in the road.

He didn’t remember this at all. They must have gone past it too fast for him to see that the path converged with another- which meant that he had no idea which path was the right one to take. Fantastic.

He stood at the crossroads for a few minutes, trying to figure out which was which- there were no tracks to be seen on either path, thanks to the rain, and they were both rather unremarkable. The one on the right went slightly uphill, while the one on the left turned a bit and went down. They’d gone uphill and downhill when coming here, right? So, which one was the way back…

…after what felt like an eternity, he gave up. His head was too foggy to try and make tough decisions, and the incessant thunder was making him a little wary of staying in one place for too long. But all paths led somewhere, and even if the one he chose didn’t lead him home, at the end, there’d certainly be somewhere he could find shelter, right?

So, he chose the path that would be easier on his aching legs: the left path.

 

* * *

 

This turned out to be the wrong way after all.

He’d known before he got to the end. It had gone downhill much more steeply than he’d expected, and wound around and around, so much so that he definitely would have remembered if this was the way he’d came. Still, he didn’t care anymore- all he wanted was to get out of the rain.

His heart leaped when he caught sight of a fence.

It was large, metal, and ornate, and stretched on for quite a while on the left-hand side of the path. On the other side were more wild plants, but… they were more colorful than the vegetation in the forest. Strange flowers and exotic fruit trees, a lavish garden left unloved to grow untamed. Where on earth had he ended up?

Viren kept going, and the dirt path slowly turned into cobblestone as the line of trees on his right grew farther and farther away from the edge of the road. He was running out of energy now- but there, not too far away, a light at the end of the tunnel: the wide-open doors of a front gate in the fence.

With newfound vigor, he struggled forward, but when he turned the corner… he couldn’t believe what he saw.

 

It was a palace.

 

How did he not know that this was here? It was absolutely massive, and incredibly tall, with towers that stretched up into the sky. It was mostly devoid of identity, the few banners that still hung from windows faded and torn. In fact, it looked wholly abandoned: it was obvious that no one had touched this front garden in years, and the rain was the only thing around to clean the cobblestone path.

The prospect of exploring an abandoned castle tugged at something in his heart, a youthful part of him that he’d nearly forgotten existed. Yes, once he got inside, he’d likely collapse in the nearest safe place and sleep for a dozen hours, but after he’d recovered… There was an entire ancient ruin here for his perusal, he thought to himself as he stumbled up the front steps. What could he discover inside? He wouldn’t return to his children with a first-prize ribbon, but perhaps he’d be able to bring back something more… interesting.

As he reached the front gate, he reached for the door handle- but then, as if on its own, his hand moved to the large door knocker, and hit it against the door three times. …strange.

When there was no response, he reached again for the door handle, and managed to grab it this time, barely managing to force the unreasonably heavy door open.

 

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

 

The outside of the palace was dilapidated stone, but the inside was made of… something indescribable. It resembled blue crystal, the way it gleamed. It seemed cut into triangles, like those found on a jewel on a crown, only much more random, but at the same time, the walls and floor were completely smooth. It was mostly blue, with shades of purple here and there, and it twinkled and gleamed like stars on a clear night. If he looked down, he could see a faint and blurry reflection of himself (and he was glad it was no clearer, he likely looked like a total mess). And not only the building, but all the furniture, the drapes, the potted plants- everything in different colors, but everything the same mystical glass.

As soon as he stepped inside, a part of him regretted it. It was irrational to worry about courtesy at a time like this, but it still felt wrong to track mud onto this immaculate floor.

…or was it so irrational?

Looking around, there wasn’t a speck of dust to be found in the foyer. Odd, for an abandoned castle…

 …equally odd for an abandoned castle were the footsteps. Faint, but hurried, and getting louder.

He stayed silent and still while they approached, but just when it seemed they were about to enter the room… they stopped.

“…what are you doing here?” The stranger’s voice was breathless, impossibly deep, and laced with barely-restrained fury. It was impossible to place where it was coming from- the foyer’s acoustics bounced the voice around, so it felt like it was coming from anywhere and nowhere at once.

Viren drew in a breath to respond, but he couldn’t get out more than a feeble “I-” before his body was wracked with another coughing fit, harsher than any before. He doubled over, then lost his grip on his walking stick and fell to the ground.

At this, the stranger entered the room, descending the grand staircase that lay at the end of the foyer. Perhaps to throw him out into the front yard and be done with him? Of course no one would welcome this sorry show at their front door. Still… he couldn’t help but wonder who his unwilling host was, to live in this strange place and then be so offended when someone assumed it was abandoned. It took all his strength to lift up his head, but he had to see.

 

The last thing he saw was a tentatively outstretched four-fingered hand before the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The palace looks a little like https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d0/f9/e2/d0f9e2d15f2f97b28d5c497c31bd80dd.jpg , but mostly blue and with all sorts of different-sized triangles. Also, even though it looks faceted, the surface is smooth like a mirror. It's a little hard to tell what's going on, even if you look at it for a while.  
> As for the layout of the castle... whatever you're imagining, if it's based off the movie, it's probably right. Also, since the stairs kinda split into two, he came down from the left side.


	3. Night at the Tavern

“I hope Dad’s alright.”

Claudia set her mug down on the bar, frowning out the window of the tavern at the light rain that had begun to fall. It hadn’t been that long since Viren left, but it was already dark outside- when did he say he'd be arriving again? Not until this time tomorrow...

Hopefully the rain would stay light.

“Oh, it's just a little drizzle." Soren took another swig from his own drink, not bothering to follow his sister's gaze. "If this is all those big bad clouds have to offer, he'll be fine."

"Mm." Claudia gave an uneasy hum in response.

"C'mon. He'll be back before you know it, and then you'll be sad you wasted it." Her brother waved a hand.

 The two siblings loved their father dearly. Neither of them would ever deny that. However... once in a while, they had to admit, it was nice to have some space. His presence in the house was always a bit overbearing, and it was admittedly rather nice to be able to exist without worrying about the house spontaneously combusting or Soren turning into a toad again. (That had been a strange few days.)

"Are you planning on doing  _anything_? Or are you just going to keep... doing..." He squinted. "...whatever Claudias do all day."

"Very funny." Claudia rolled her eyes. "If you  _really_ want to know... Dad might have forgotten to remind me that the workshop is off-limits this time, so-"

"Ohhhhhh my god. You magicians are like- like  _spiders._ "

"...how are we like spiders?"

"You put one outside, and then you turn around, and another one's taken its place!" Soren moaned, and Claudia laughed out loud.

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous? Of what? Getting to spend all day grinding up wasp butts in a dark closet? No thank you."

Claudia stuck out her tongue. "Excuse you. Dad's teaching me to  _change the world,_ which is much cooler than running around in a field with wooden swords."

"We have had this conversation  _so many times_." Soren put his head down on the bar. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were ten years old again. Or twelve. Or fifteen. Or seventeen. Or-"

"Okay, okay. I geeeeet it." Claudia waved her hands.

The two finished off their drinks and ordered seconds, idly chatting about this or that, and soon they were joined by a bunch of Soren's buddies, to one sibling's delight and the other's dismay. One thing led to another, and soon Claudia was reluctantly overseeing all sorts of wild games that went on late into the night.

 

 

 

By the time everyone stumbled out the tavern doors at closing time, it was still pouring, but just about no one was sober enough to care- no one but Claudia, who was admittedly slightly tipsy, but still had her wits about her enough to grab her brother by the hand and lead him firmly in the direction of their house, despite his protests.

"Awww, c'mon, Claudyaaaaaaaaaaaa... Yer ruinin' all the  _fun_."

"As tempting as it is to let you run off, I promised Dad I'd be  _responsible_ while he was gone."

Soren squinted at his sister through the rain. "I don' like that word."

Claudia sighed. "Yes, Soren. I know."

 

They'd just turned onto the path leading up to their house when suddenly, the sky above them lit up with a bright flash of lightning- unsurprising, given the storm. What  _was_ startling was the thunder... or, rather, the odd sound that accompanied the thunder. It sounded like... a frightened horse? Claudia looked towards the sound, and her eyes went wide as she realized where it was coming from.

"Watch out!" She tightened her grip on Soren's hand, pulling him to one side as hard as she could as a horse and a cart came barreling through, trampling all that was in its way- mercifully, while that included a low fence and several flower bushes she'd always been rather fond of, it didn't include either sibling, and they were free to bewilderedly stare after the rampaging creature.

"...what's a horse doing here so late at night?" Claudia squinted in the direction it'd gone. Something about it had been familiar, although the drink and the rain were clouding her mind a bit. "And why isn't anyone riding it?.." 

...oh,  _no._

Soren shrugged. "Beat's me, c'mon, le's jus' go hom... Clauds? Clauds, you 'kay?" He waved a hand in front of her face- it'd taken on an utterly horrified look.

"... _Dad._ " She turned to him, clutching his hand even tighter.

"Wh- Dad's home?" Soren's face fell.

"No! That's- that's the problem, Soren!"

"Oh. ...why's'at a problem? I thought we were happy 'bout that." 

"No, you- I- oh, there's no time for this. You stay here!" She rolled her eyes before turning around and tearing off after the horse and cart.

"Wh- hey, no way! I'm comin' too!" Soren followed as close behind as he could (with the world spinning and his feet wanting to tangle up in each other and all that).

 

The two chased the horse through half the town, aggravating all the neighbors as they went. Ordinarily, Claudia would take the time to apologize, but this wasn't an ordinary situation. She couldn't think straight- she just knew she had to  _stop that horse_. 

They finally managed to corner it in the town square- Soren somehow managed to grab the reins, and Claudia managed to calm it down enough to stop it from panicking. Seeing it up close made it certain... this was her father's horse.

So where was her father?

"Hey, it's Dad's machine!" Soren called out- apparently he'd been busying himself with inspecting the contents of the cart. "What's this ol' thing doing here?"

"Soren! Focus!" Claudia clapped her hands. "Do you seriously not get what this means?"

"Wh-"

" _Something happened to Dad_ , Soren."

"...oh." The look on his face told her he understood. 

 

 

 

They went back to the house in silence- almost silence. When they started off, Soren had tried to start a conversation, but Claudia was too intently focused on her own thoughts to even hear him, let alone respond.

She left the horse for Soren to tie up, busying herself with carrying the machine and what little was left in the cart back to her father's workshop. (The box did seem to have held up as well as he'd hoped, after all.) 

What was she going to do?

They couldn't very well go out to look for him in this weather- with Soren three sheets to the wind, they couldn't get ten yards out of town before having to turn back. Her dad wasn't in the best of health on a good day, yes, but... surely he could survive one night. He's probably found some sort of shelter by now- or, heck, even made one. He always was smart like that. Yes, he's- he's probably fine. There's no need to worry. Everything will be okay until tomorrow morning, when the storm will pass, and...

"Hey, horse's all tiiiii..." Soren opened the door to the workshop just in time to see Claudia start frantically searching through the drawers that lined the room, searching through them for this and that and setting out a small pile of magical ingredients on the worktable. "Woah, Clauds. Whassall this?"

"Ingredients for a tracking spell." She turned to Soren, smiling in that unnerving way she always did when things weren't okay. "Everything's going to be okay. We're going to find Dad tomorrow. You just go to bed, alright?"

"...you sure?"

"I'm sure." She turned back to her work, smile vanishing as she compared a small bottle to a drawing in an old-looking book.

"...okay."

With that, he shut the workshop door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was quite rushed, I'll admit, but I really wanted to update. I'll probably do another revamp like I did for chapter 1 once I get inspiration for something to happen in the bar. (Since they can't very well up and sing 'Gaston'.)  
> Also if anyone has any advice on writing drunk characters please hit me up


	4. A Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here looking for the update, go back a chapter!  
> (Or read this one again. I've made a few little changes.)

 

When Viren awoke, he didn’t know where he was.

 

It took a few moments to remember what had happened.

The aching of his limbs, the heaviness in his chest, and the pain in his throat, of course, helped jog his memory. He’d been lost in the woods, stumbled across some impossible ruin, and then… and then what?

The best case scenario, of course, was having been thrown out of the palace and back into the elements. A likelier outcome, however, was that he'd be locked in some dungeon, or simply killed on the spot.

After all, the "man" who’d confronted him in the foyer... had been an elf.

 

Viren had never seen an elf in real life before. No human had. The two races usually kept to their own parts of the world. He had, however, read about them at length.

There were six types, each one tied to a certain primal source of magic. The ocean elves, whose name always eluded him for some reason. The hardy Earthblood elves, skilled craftsmen and workers. The cunning Moonshadow elves, who made their living doing... less-than legal things, to both humans and their fellow elves. The valiant Sunfire elves, knights and warriors for elf-kind. The passionate Skywing elves, artists and inventors. And the ethereal Startouch elves.

Oh, that elf had certainly been star-touched, alright. He’d only seen for a fleeting moment, but the memory of that outstretched hand was burned into his mind. Now that he’d seen one in the flesh, he realized that the sketches in books couldn't possibly ever do their heavenly complexion justice. It was… it was like the clear night sky had been painted on a person, complete with beautiful twinkling stars.

-not a person, of course. An elf. Elves are not people, Viren had to remind himself. They're magical creatures. Malicious tricksters. Spiteful beasts. They don't like humans.

…and yet.

 

He was alive, and inside, and the room he found himself in was no dungeon. It was certainly inside the palace, given by the crystalline appearance of everything around him: the bed he’d woken up in, the chest of drawers across the room, the table by the bed, the candelabra that rested atop it, and its triplet flames.

Was this… a guest room?

 

As he sat up to better assess his surroundings, something fell onto the sheets- a damp cloth that had apparently previously rested on his forehead. It had presumably been cold once, but it was now room-temperature… a quick touch of the back of his hand to his forehead confirmed that he was indeed still running a significant fever. That was unsurprising, given the events of last night. What was surprising was the hospitality. Of course he was grateful, he couldn't deny that, but he was also far too suspicious to let his guard down, even in his sorry state.

 

Intending to investigate, he pulled back the covers and got to his feet- or, well, tried to. As soon as he stood up, the world swayed around him, and he grabbed onto the nearest thing to try and keep his balance- the candelabra. 

The candelabra did not like that. 

It  _squirmed_ _(?!?!)_ in his hand, and he abruptly dropped it back onto the table. It fell over, and for a moment, he was worried that it’d catch fire or the candles would go out, but the flames merely flickered a little, even as the candelabra... used it’s arms to push itself up... and turned around to face him. With... its face. Its uncannily human face. 

“Well, that was a bit of a rude awakening!” It spoke in a voice high and musical, with the tone of a young woman playfully pretending to be offended. 

Viren wondered if he was delirious.

 

 

 

"It's a good thing you woke me up. Just look at you! The master was right to have me look after you." Continued the talking candlestick, which was disappointingly seeming less and less like a hallucination with every word that came out of its mouth. It hopped onto the bed, uncomfortably close to the hand he was leaning on to support himself.

He must have recoiled, because the smile on its candle-face vanished. "Aw, don't be afraid. They don't hurt unless I want them to." To prove this, it bent one of its arms down and stuck the flame right onto Viren's hand. He started, but somehow, it didn't burn. In fact, it was... pleasantly warm. A chill ran down his spine, and for a moment, he regretted getting out of bed.

"Y-You said- listen, who's 'the master'?" He shook off the thought, also ignoring his painfully hoarse voice. "Is he the one in charge?"

"Why, the master of the house, of course!" It managed to wear a straight face for all of a moment after saying this, after which it broke out in a fit of giggles. "Oh, listen to me! Talking like a real boo-till-ee-air for once!"

Viren was not as amused. "And he left you to... 'look after me'?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mmmmmhm! I make for a handy heat source in this drafty old dust trap." 

"...right." He narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose you're not going to allow me to leave the room?"

The candle opened its mouth to respond, then shut it, then opened it again. "Well, no. But, I mean, if you're asking me, that's a pretty terrible idea."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"'Cause you can't even stand on your own." The candelabra raised its crystalline eyebrows in the direction of Viren's arms, which were starting to shake slightly. 

Viren, who had been trying to ignore that, scowled. "I'm fine."

"Mmmmmhm. Well, just so you know, if you happen to fall over for any random, unrelated reason, I can't help you up. I'm kinda... little." It wiggled its arms, as if to demonstrate just how useless it would be in that eventuality. "Just sayin'."

He considered this for a moment, then begrudgingly sat back down on the bed with a sigh. He hated giving in to this... thing... but it had a point- there wasn't a chance he'd make it more than a few steps before his legs gave out. 

"I knew you'd come around."

 

It hopped back over to the table, bouncing on one of his legs on its way. "Guess I should go spread the word that you're up and all. You're the most exciting thing that's happened here in years. You gonna be okay here on your own?"

"I'll be fine, thank you." He responded curtly- staying here alone wasn't exactly an appealing prospect, but all the alternatives seemed worse.

"Alright." It hopped down off the table, using the slightly open drawers as a staircase to reach the floor safely. "I won't be gone for long." It crossed the room, tugging on a cord hanging from the door handle to open the door, but looked back again at Viren again before leaving. "Oh, and sir?"

"Yes?"

"Get some rest. No offense, but you look like death." With that, it hopped out the door, tugging the door shut behind it.

 

And with the noisy candlestick gone, there was unfortunately one less distraction from how lousy he felt- how had standing for a minute used up all his energy? He could always follow its advice, of course, but... was that really a good idea? It was, after all, doing the bidding of his captor. Voluntarily staying in one place would make things easier for them, as they wouldn't have to restrain him. But, then again, the candle showed no signs of wanting to. In fact, it seemed... downright benevolent. And his brain might have rejected the idea, but the rest of his body was unanimously in favor of more rest. Perhaps a compromise was in order?..

...against his better judgement, he lay back down.

He was planning to stay there for a few minutes to gather his strength, but as soon as his eyes closed, he barely had time to realize that he wouldn't be doing anything other than passing out immediately before it happened.


	5. Delirium

Viren slept fitfully, plagued with bone-chillingly vivid nightmares that blended with the moments he was awake- which lasted no more than a few minutes, unfortunately, before the dark hands of delirium took hold and dragged him back under. Occasionally, he would mistake the strange scenery he found himself in when he woke for yet another nightmare- but, really, could you blame him? His imagination was powerful, but the scenario he'd found himself in was far beyond its limits.

So far, his visitors included the candelabra- his near-constant companion and caretaker, it seemed-, a coatrack, a pincushion, a feather duster, and an excitable gaggle of tiny forks, and he'd long since lost the energy to be surprised each time he awoke to another piece of crystalline furniture staring at him with vague interest. Sure. Giggly dessert forks. Why not.

Every time he managed to escape from the clutches of the dreamworld, he'd fight as hard as he could to stay awake, even if that meant interacting with starstruck sentient soup spoons, but it seemed like something was sapping his energy, somehow. He couldn't keep his eyes open for more than five minutes at first, but it had gotten steadily worse over time, save for rare moments of clarity- usually brought on by external stimuli, such as when he was being repeatedly poked by tiny prongs, or as the case with the last and clearest instance, awakened by ice water. Not in a violent manner, mind you, but by a replacement of the cloth over his forehead in a futile attempt to keep his fever down.

"Oh, there you are." The candle girl piped up immediately after she noticed. 

The shock of the cold water had restored more of his wits to him than before, and he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position in an attempt to keep it that way.

"Ooh, there's progress." She turned towards him, blinking in surprise. "Thinkin' you're gonna stay awake for us this time?" 

"...here's hoping." His voice was almost completely toneless by now, a scratchy whisper that made him wince. 

"That's good. You've been giving us quite the scare, you know." She tutted, resting one candle on his shoulder. 

"How... how long has it been?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. The sun came up an hour or two ago, but I haven't the faintest when you got here. Haven't seen Augustus since yesterday morning..."

"Who-" He paused to stifle a pair of sneezes into the back of his wrist, and waited for the world to stop spinning before he continued. "Who is this 'Augustus'?"

"Augustus the Timekeeper. Uh- the big ol' clock. You might not see him, I don't think he cares too much about all this."

Interesting. Not who he was hoping the name would be associated with, but...

"So, um... is this not, uh, normal? For you humans?" She hopped around so she was facing him again, expression almost disproportionately concerned. 

"No. I was suffering from a minor illness before I got caught in the rain, and it seems to have, ah... relapsed. It wasn't nearly this bad before, but I hadn't-"

"Um, sir? Sir, I was, uh, actually talking about, um. That." She gestured in the direction of his face.

...what? He lifted a hand to his face to inspect- and drew in a breath of shock at the sight of the ghostly pale hue his skin had taken on. That... definitely wasn't normal. He'd experienced something similar before, after a particularly egregious use of dark magic, but it was nowhere near this bad on his face, let alone his _hands_! What was-

-all of a sudden, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he felt completely drained all over again. He managed to keep himself from falling over, but just barely. (The cloth proved itself the only reliable thing left in this world by staying stuck in place.)

"Oh, not again..." The candelabra sighed, hopping back slightly. 

Viren gripped the sheets with his free hand until his knuckles turned white, gritting his teeth to try and hold onto consciousness, but all was to no avail, and he felt the world slipping away again...

 

...and then the door opened.

 

His heartrate shot up as  _the elf_ entered the room, and he froze in place, eyes locked with those of his... captor? ...host? Regardless, they were downright haunting- golden, with black sclera- and just the sight of the ~~stunningly ethereal~~   _devious and malevolent_ being sent shivers down his spine. 

"Master!" The candelabra gasped, quickly hopping back to her place on the bedside table. 

The elf gently shut the door behind him, not looking away from Viren as he approached. It was a little intimidating being stared down from such a height difference- he'd had to bow his head to get through the door, since he was tall enough that his elegant horns would have caught on the doorframe otherwise. Of course, he couldn't have been _that_ much taller than Viren if you didn't count the horns, but it's not like the playing field was exactly even right now-

"How is our guest doing, Lyrie?" ...oh. Oh, that _voice_. He recognized it instantly, yet without the dramatic echo of the main hall and the high tension of the affair on which he’d first heard it, it had taken on a whole different character- from grand, accusatory, and intimidating to low, smoky, and... still fairly intimidating, actually. Its tone was as deep as the owner was tall, unbelievably soothing... and made a part of his mind almost want to drop his guard. (This must have been the fever talking. Obviously.) 

"Not, um. Not good." She put her ‘hands’ together and twisted them back and forth like she were nervously wringing them. "I did my best, really, I-"

"It's alright. You did well." He knelt down beside the bed, gently cupping Viren's face in one hand- it was absolutely  _freezing_ , and he flinched back slightly, but forced his eyes to stay open, even though just that felt like it took all his energy. All he could do was hope his facial expression looked more defiant than pitiful. 

"...ah. I see what's happening here." The elf frowned. "You're a human mage, aren't you?"

Reluctantly, Viren nodded.

"Of course. I should have known." The elf’s expression hardened with vague resentment. “This place isn’t kind to... _your_ type of magic.” Viren should have known better than to respond honestly. Elves as a whole despised practitioners of dark magic- historically, they had claimed it was because of an underlying moral opposition to the craft, but Viren knew that they really just didn’t like their power being threatened.

He moved his head backwards to escape the elf’s icy touch- unfortunately, this somehow set off his volatile respiratory system, and he doubled over in the ensuing fit. 

“Oh, you poor soul...” He felt a four-fingered hand on his back, and after a moment, a silk handkerchief was pressed into one of his own. "Here I was, thinking it was a turn of _good_ fortune that brought you to my door... if only I'd known this wretched residence of mine would do this to you." 

Good fortune? What in the world was the elf talking about? In what world could that term be applied to  _any_ of this?

"...Lyrie." The elf nodded to the candelabra, who snapped to attention. "Be a dear. Tell Chandrelle to dim the lights for me, and get Vesryn while you're at it."

"Wh- you're not really going to-"

"Now, please."

"...yes, Master Aaravos." She nodded, quickly hopping down the drawers.

 

"...not going to  _what_ _?_ _"_   Viren croaked- perhaps the elf was planning to put him out of his misery. (Didn't sound too bad, really, compared to what he was going through at the moment.) 

"Attempt to fix this... little problem." He tilted Viren's head with one hand, so they were looking in each others' eyes. "Your odd human illness might pose a challenge, but I can at least protect you from the magic in the air here."

"...you're... not going to hurt me?" Viren blinked slowly. All this time, he'd been expecting the peaceful demeanor to be a ruse, but... The elf actually  _chuckled_ at the question.

"Heavens, no. Why in the world would I do that?" He paused. “Besides, if I wanted to, I would have done so already."

Viren was silent.

The elf sighed. "You don't trust me."

"...you're an elf. I'm a human. Am I-" He coughed into the handkerchief, flinching slightly at the feeling of the elf's hand on his shoulder again. "-... am I wrong to be suspicious?"

"Perhaps not." He looked Viren up and down. "But are you  _really_ in the place to be suspecting me?"

Viren looked away- he couldn’t make himself respond.

The elf sighed. “Well, I suppose if trust will not be freely given...” A strange noise started up- a sparkly sort of fizzing sound. “...I shall have to earn it.”

Viren looked up just in time to see the final line of an elaborate sigil being drawn in the air before him, and before he could react, the spell was cast.

Energy washed over his body like a wave and shot through it like lightning at the same time. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before- and when it faded... everything felt so different. He hadn’t thought the atmosphere in the room was that negative, but now it was like a thick smoke had been cleared from around his head, letting him breathe freely. The oppressive air gone, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy in a different way- as much as he'd grown to fear the embrace of sleep... perhaps he’d finally be able to get his energy back now. 

The elf was gazing at him, starry hands folded over one of his own. in the moment of euphoria, Viren forgot himself. Surely, if the elf was willing to help him like this- surely he couldn’t be _all_ bad. 

What was that name? ‘Aaravos’?..

...beautiful.

”...thank you.” He whispered.

The elf smiled, gently pushing Viren back down onto the bed. “You’ll be alright. Now rest.”

And so when sleep closed his eyes get again, it finally brought peace with it.

 

\- - -

 

Lyrie and Vesryn returned to the room just in time to see the spell being cast, to see Viren purged of the castle’s influence...

...and, after the human had closed his eyes, to see Aaravos collapse.

 

They rushed to his side, the statue helping him up off the floor and the candelabra close at their heels, bending almost all the way backwards to get a good look at the two. 

“Are you sure there wasn’t another way?” Lyrie asked. “You know I hate to see you spend all your energy like this.”

”Doesn’t matter now, does it? Th’deed’s done.” Vesryn shook their head, shifting their arm around Aaravos’s shoulders. His breathing was labored and his arms were shaking, but he seemed to be holding up remarkably well, considering the taxing use of his presently-limited powers.

“Vesryn, put me on the table. I’ll look after the human.”

”Alright." The statue nodded. "'f anything comes up, y'know where t'find me." They gently set their candle-adorned companion back down on the nightstand, then turned to leave. 

Aaravos took one last look at the human before they left. 

Vesryn couldn’t imagine what he must have been thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> erik todd dellums can take my heart and my life savings thanks
> 
> -This chapter??? Took a turn I wasn't expecting?????? But I kinda really like it. It feels disjointed and repetitive but also sets up for the next events better. Also I've got a vague sort of plan for where the story will go now thanks to this.  
> -aaravos can hear the furniture again, since that whole dealio was nice symbolically but going to be a little difficult to work around.  
> -lyrie that namedrop was petty and you know it  
> -even aaravos, master of all six primal sources, can't cure the common cold  
> -When we get close to the end I might need to add some. sad tags  
> -I’ve had too much fun coming up with silly titles for the elves  
> -‘what kind of elf name is augustus’ listen: die  
> -Vesryn is!! A statue that looks like a suit of armor, there’s a sword fused to their right hand which is way more of an inconvinience than they first expected it to be. (hey at least they're not the *actual* suit of armor)  
> -speaking of things being more difficult than the subject of the sentence anticipated: writing Aaravos’s dialogue
> 
> -edit 11/23: fixed some things. going to watch s3 tomorrow- maybe it'll bring back my motivation to write this again. here's hoping ;w;


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